The Lover's Mark
by Liathwen
Summary: Sherlock is determined to get out of his obligation to the soul mate he's never met. Molly is willing to sacrifice her happiness to let her soul mate choose his own destiny. Sometimes though, fate is on the side of lovers.


**This fic is written for AllTheBellsInVenice on her birthday though I haven't been able to publish it until now. **

**I cannot begins to express just how much this woman means to me. She has been there though all my falls and crashes. Through all my ups and downs and I can never repay her for the love and friendship she has shown for me when I least deserved it. I won't ever be able to deserve someone as kind and caring as she is and I'm truly lucky to be able to call her my friend. Bells, I love you very much. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.**

* * *

"You know that they'll find her, right? You do know that?"

Sherlock groaned in frustration. "John could you possibly shut up?"

The Army Doctor was quiet for a moment, but couldn't contain himself for long.

"No seriously, Sherlock. You can't hide from her forever."

The Consulting Detective stood, fetching his coat from the rack and pulling it on as he headed down the stairs to the main door of 221 Baker Street. John huffed along behind him, also pulling on his outerwear.

"Where are we going?"

"You're going home to Mary, your _soulmate_, and I'm going to Bart's to check on my cultures."

"You mean to see Molly."

Sherlock stopped abruptly and whirled on his friend.

"Does it matter?" he bellowed, frightening several of the passerby's on the street and causing John's eyes to widen slightly. "Does it matter that I want to see Molly? As you've so helpfully pointed out, I'm to be forced into an arranged marriage with whoever the bloody hell has the same mark as I do so it doesn't matter whether I want to see Molly or not! It doesn't matter that she's been in love with me for years, it doesn't matter that I've returned the sentiment for just as long. Don't you see? When they find your soulmate, it's a done deal. _Oh, you'll be happy. Oh, it's your soulmate be grateful."_

Sherlock snorted as he mocked the common phrasing used by the Soulmate Bureau. The same agency who had taken an interest in him now that it was common knowledge that John Watson was most definitely NOT Sherlock's soulmate and was blissfully happy with Mary Morstan (even though that relationship had more than its share of bumps along the road.) Sherlock's fame had spread even more after the faux-Moriarty debacle and many had questioned his lack of a soulmate at his age which led to the agency announcing that they would begin the search immediately, despite Sherlock's protests.

"See, you don't get it. I'm to be forced into this marriage with someone and it'll be the end. The end of YEARS of side looks and accidental brushes and sliding between the sheets of her bed at night when I can't sleep in my own bed because she isn't there and saying that I'm using her flat as a bolt hole to spare us both the pain of hoping for something that will NEVER HAPPEN!"

Sherlock finished and whirled around again, coat billowing behind him, and stalked off in the direction of Bart's stopping on the corner to hail a cab. John watched as he went and then hailed his own cab, giving directions to his flat and sending up a silent hope that the powers that be wouldn't find a match for Sherlock, just as Molly had declared they had done for her.

* * *

Sherlock stalked into the lab and stopped, seeing Molly leaned over a microscope, absorbed in her research. He smiled faintly at the sight of her and continued into the room, intent on checking his cultures.

"Oh Sherlock," Molly said, rubbing her lower back as she straightened up. "I thought you'd be by today so I put out your samples. They're on the table there."

"Thank you Molly," he replied quietly, walking towards them.

"So ummm tomorrow, huh?" Molly said, a nervous smile on her face. "They found your match then?"

"Mmmm," Sherlock murmured his agreement. "I suppose they have."

"Oh? They, they didn't tell you? Don't they usually, I don't know, send you a letter or something? I got a letter…" she trails off, wringing her hands together nervously. Sherlock looked up, curiously.

"A letter, no. I assume it's due to my brother's meddling. Though, there is still the faint hope that they haven't found anyone to match me. My mark is rather complex."

Molly nodded. "Yes, I remember," she said quietly. She'd seen his mark only once, after helping his fake his death in order to dupe Moriarty. She shuddered at the memory of that terrible day.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I've never seen your mark Molly."

Molly took a step back and put her hands up a little, in a defensive gesture. Sherlock's brow furrowed at her reaction.

"I ummm, well you know, they are kind of in a, umm, well an awkward position to be showing to everyone."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's just your hip Molly," he responded. "Not like I'm asking to see your-"

"That's, that's enough Sherlock," Molly interrupted. "I'd just, I'd rather not show you."

"Why?" he asked, moving closer to her. "Why won't you show me? Do you not have one? Because statistically it's possible though very rare and-"

"Sherlock." Molly cut him off again. "I just, well I know how you are about the whole soulmate thing and I know you never wanted one so I'd rather not show you mine. You know, because, well I did even though I know you think it's only out of duty to be bonded, well I still think it would have been nice, you know, to have someone."

Sherlock stopped, right in front of the petite woman. "Let me see Molly."

She shook her head again but he caught her chin in his hand, turning her to look at him, refusing to let her break away.

"Molly, let me see. It's, well it's my last chance, wouldn't you say?" he said ruefully, looking down and away from her to hide his sadness.

He looked back up when he felt a tear fall on his finger from Molly's face. She pulled away from him, shaking her head.

"I can't Sherlock. I can't…" She turned and ran from the room, leaving Sherlock to sag against the table, his heart heavy.

* * *

"I'm afraid that your soulmate has filed the proper forms to exempt them from the program Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock stared at the official from the Soulmate Bureau in shock, his mind racing. Could it really be that he was free from the obligation? That he was truly able to allow himself to reciprocate Molly's poorly hidden feelings for him?

"Mr. Holmes?"

He roused himself and narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Was there a name?" he asked, his voice choked.

"I'm not supposed to release that information. I can only tell you that your partner cited unwillingness to be bonded out of duty."

Sherlock paled as he remembered Molly's words from the previous day and without another word he ran from the government building, cursing as he failed to hail the first cab he saw. He got the next one however, and snapped out directions to Bart's.

* * *

"She isn't here, Sherlock."

Sherlock skidded to a halt just inside the door to the morgue, his eyes widening in surprise when he recognized his brother seated on a stool. He raised a brow at the precarious position but Mycroft merely shrugged in return, stepping down and smoothing imaginary wrinkles in his suit.

"You," Sherlock breathed. "You're the one who allowed the abstention. You knew."

"Of course I knew, Sherlock," Mycroft replied with a sigh. "But you made it perfectly clear what you thought about soulmates and bonding. Molly saw your mark when you fell and decided that she wouldn't force you into it even though she has loved you for years."

Sherlock clenched his fists. "You knew," he repeated. "And you also knew how I felt about her."

"Yes, I did," Mycroft agreed again. "I also knew that you are an arrogant sod who doesn't deserve someone as good as Molly Hooper. You've proven that time and time again."

Sherlock gaped at his brother, unable to find words.

"But," Mycroft sighed. "She loves you and you love her so you should probably go talk to her. She had hoped that you wouldn't put two and two together but well, of course you did. Slip of the tongue on her part, no matter how innocent. She's at her flat, took the day off."

Sherlock turned to depart but Mycroft had one more thing to say.

"Don't mess this up, Sherlock," he called after him. "Oh, and I've arranged for her to be off for the next week, use the time wisely, would you?"

The door banged behind Sherlock as he left the room.

* * *

He let himself in as usual. He'd had a key almost as long as he could remember, though he was sure it was only since the fall. Quietly toeing off his shoes and hanging up his coat, he turned around only to notice Molly sitting silently on the couch, staring at him, a tired expression on her face.

"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" she asked, with a sigh. "Isn't this what you wanted? You should be out celebrating, solving crimes, experimenting, whatever. Free from your duty." She almost spat the last word out, as if it was a bad taste in her mouth.

"Molly…" he began, slowly crossing the room.

"No, no just go." Molly sniffled a little. "Just go away. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Molly," he said again, this time kneeling in front of her to take her hand in his gently. "Let me see your mark."

"What's the point?" she asked, sniffling again. "What's the point in any of this? Why won't you just go away and stop torturing me?" She tried to jerk her hand away from his but Sherlock held on fast.

"Molly, oh Molly," he chuckled slightly. "You can see me. Why can't you see this?" He smiled slightly and leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against hers, his smile broadening as he heard a muffled squeak come from her. He pulled back and examined her closely, hoping he hadn't misinterpreted her, that she hadn't gotten over her love for him.

"Sherlock, do you, are you…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Yes Molly. I do love you. I only grew to dislike the idea of having a soulmate after I met you. I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you but it took a long time for me to acknowledge it. And after I acknowledged it, I was angry that I had fallen in love with someone I could never be with. I lived in fear of the day when you found your soulmate and left me." He paused and looked away from her for a moment before continuing. "I was cruel to you, and I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I was jealous of your dates, jealous of your time. I wanted you all to myself but I knew that I didn't have a right to ask that of you. Not when we both had someone out there. But when you said the Bureau hadn't found your soulmate, I breathed a sigh of relief."

He stopped and chuckled ruefully. "You are the best secret keeper I've ever met, with the exception of Mycroft perhaps."

Molly pursed her lips in a vain attempt to stifle her smile. "Well you did trust me with your secret."

"I wish you had trusted me with yours," he whispered and her smile faded.

"I couldn't, Sherlock. I knew what you thought about it. I couldn't force you to be with me knowing how you felt."

"Oh Molly," Sherlock laughed, pressing another light kiss to her mouth. "You truly had no idea, did you?"

She giggled and shook her head. "No, you were pretty convincing."

Sherlock sobered and nodded. "Well now that you know and I know, may I?" His hands hovered at the waist of her sleep shorts, just above where her soul mark who be found on her hip. She bit her lip and nodded, and Sherlock slowly pulled down the side of her shorts to expose the mark.

He grinned as it came into view, the looping swirls so familiar yet so different on her skin. He traced a finger over it before leaning to press a reverent kiss to her skin. Her breaths quickened and he looked up from her hip to see her eyes rapidly dilating.

"Molly," he said, his breath ghosting across her skin causing goose bumps to raise. "I'd very much like to take you to bed now."

"Oh God I thought you'd never ask," she quipped, a sardonic grin on her face which quickly turned to a look a pure lust as Sherlock stood and easily lifted her from her seat, carrying her bridal style into the bedroom.

"Oh, I should mention that Mycroft arranged for you to have the next week off," he said, kicking the door shut. "So is tomorrow too soon for the wedding?"


End file.
